


It's not the sake that's tempting

by Codango



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cockblocking, Drinking, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Graduation, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: The day Natsume Takashi graduates from college is the day that Natori Shuuichi realizes he is personally in deep shit.It’s probably just the shock of seeing Natsume in a perfectly fitted black suit, rather than the hoodie and canvas pants that Natori has seen him in since he met him as a high school boy. Natori wonders what combination of loving bribes Touko-san must have come up with to ensure Natsume stood for a tailor instead of buying off the rack somewhere. They were worth it.





	It's not the sake that's tempting

The day Natsume Takashi graduates from college is the day that Natori Shuuichi realizes he is personally in deep shit.

It’s probably just the shock of seeing Natsume in a perfectly fitted black suit, rather than the hoodie and canvas pants that Natori has seen him in since he met him as a high school boy. Natori wonders what combination of loving bribes Touko-san must have come up with to ensure Natsume stood for a tailor instead of buying off the rack somewhere. They were worth it.

“Natori-san!” Natsume spots him in the crowd spilling outside the university’s gymnasium. He pulls away with a frown from a group of friends and rushes over. He’s going to be twenty-two in a few weeks, Natori realizes. Natori himself is staring down the barrel of twenty-nine in the fall.

He reminds himself to act like the suave, older man the movies have made everyone think he is. He smiles and doesn’t smooth down his tie. “Congratulations, Natsume. You—” But he doesn’t get to tease Natsume about how stunning he is in his suit.

“You didn’t have to come, Natori-san.” Natsume comes up close, his frown fierce, his voice low. His eyes scan the immediate area suspiciously. “Hiiragi isn’t with you? Urihime? I told Nyanko-sensei to stay home today.”

“However did you manage to get him to stay behind?” Natori actually wants to know. There will be drinking parties later, if Natsume plans to follow any custom at all. It would take quite a force of will for Madara to miss them.

Natsume rolls his eyes. His lashes are long and make the expression seem more petulant than it is. Natori bites back a smile. “I promised him we’d have our own sake party tomorrow night with everyone.”

“Everyone?” Natori asks innocently. He knows who Natsume means, but damn him if he isn’t enjoying having Natsume’s attention all to himself. He’s missed this. The spring semester kept Natsume busy with finals and a series of frankly intense interviews with Japan’s board of exorcists. Natori has hardly seen him for two months.

Natsume glances around again. “The chukyuu, of course. Hinoe and Misuzu. Chobihige. Anyone’s welcome, really.” He lifts his lashes to look up at Natori (who has never been so grateful that Natsume hasn’t reached his height). “You can let Hiiragi know. Sasago and Urihime, too.”

“They’ll be delighted. They’ll pretend otherwise, of course, but it’ll be impossible to keep them away.” Natori debates asking if _anyone’s welcome_ means that he is as well. He opens his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees a young man walk their way from the small group Natsume left.

He’s dark-haired. Svelte as a model. Stunning, but in a different manner than Natsume. His eyes are confident and self-assured, where Natsume’s are always wary. Natori decides immediately he doesn’t like him.

“Natsume, we’re leaving without you if you don’t come on,” the young man says without preamble. He comes to stand proprietarily at Natsume’s side, but he’s looking at Natori, who can recognize challenge when he sees it.

A flash of irritation sweeps across Natsume’s face, but it’s quickly schooled into a polite smile. “Just coming. Natori-san, this is Sako Akinari, my classmate. Sako, this is…Natori Shuuichi.”

Natori fights down disappointment. He doesn’t even warrant _Natori Shuuichi, my friend_?

Sako’s eyebrows rise so fantastically that Natori knows he’s been recognized before the man even walked over. He can spot false surprise ten kilometers away. “Surely not the actor?” Sako says, eyes wide. “Natsume, you never said you had such distinguished friends.”

Natsume blushes hard. “I’m sure it’s come up,” he says evasively. He doesn’t look at either of them, but it’s not lost on Natori that Natsume has shifted away from Sako ever so slightly.

“No.” Sako pouts. “No, I don’t think it’s ever come up that you know Natori Shuuichi well enough for him to leave his movie trailer and his models and his fangirls to come say hello at your graduation.”

Natori solidifies his judgment that he doesn’t like him.He takes an enormous gamble, praying to any god listening that he’s not about to end his friendship with Natsume.

Natsume squeaks when Natori rests an arm lightly around his shoulders.

“Well, I would shout it from the rooftops.” He gives Sako his sunniest smile. “But Natsume insists I get in his way when I do that.”

Real surprise glints in Sako’s eyes for half a moment.

Something in Natori’s chest crows at putting this inexperienced playboy in his place. It’s rare that his sharklike social skills from the movie industry prove their worth around Natsume.

Natsume is staring up at him, cheeks bright pink. It’s an attractive shade. Natori beams down at him. “You could just tell one or two friends about me, really,” he admonishes gently. “I don’t like showing up and being a surprise.”

“N-Natori,” is apparently all Natsume can say. He doesn’t push him away, and Natori figures that’s a positive sign that he won’t be on the receiving end of a lecture later.

“Go have fun with your friends,” Natori coos, though his original goal had been to see if perhaps _he_ could buy Natsume a drink or two tonight. And then, because Sako hasn’t taken the hint completely yet and left, he leans down and says low, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” There’s a sharp intake of breath that says Sako is drawing _conclusions_.

Natsume’s eyes are still locked on Natori, mouth open a little. He’s practically tucked into Natori’s side, and it’s a good look on him. Natori would love to show up at his next premiere with Natsume next to him like this, blushing in another deliciously fitted suit.

The thought sears through his brain before he realizes he’s capable of imagining such things.

“Yeah,” Natsume whispers, and oh, Natori hadn’t needed that sound in his life. Natsume clears his throat. “Right. I’ll…text you the place.” He pulls away, seems to toy with saying more, then flashes a fake smile before he walks quickly back to his friends. They have all been watching rather obviously for who knows how long.

Sako eyes Natori with an odd mix of acceptance and hurt. His jaw is tight.

For the first time, Natori feels sympathetic. Natsume really is unfairly beautiful. He probably has a trail of broken hearts littered through campus and no idea about any of them.

“I’ll ask him about you tonight then,” Sako promises lightly. “Since you’re all right with him talking about you.”

“I’m flattered I’d be the topic of any conversation on such a night for your class.”

Sako nods, then turns away. He pauses and glances over his shoulder at Natori. “He has friends. A lot of people would do a lot for him.”

Natori thinks of the Dogs Circle. The Fujiwaras. Tanuma Kaname. His own shiki. “Even more than you know,” he says, and he doesn’t mean it to be an insult.

Sako swallows hard. “Well. I hope his stories about a movie star are all pleasant ones.” He walks away, his stride determined.

Natori releases a slow breath. Pleasant stories? Most of his experiences with Natsume center around particularly vicious youkai. Or vicious humans, come to that. They don’t actually have a lot of pleasant history together.

How is it that Natori still wouldn’t part with any of it?

He watches Natsume be pulled along by his friends. From the look of his beet-red face and his upturned hands, he’s being bombarded with questions.

“Natori…Shuuichi?”

“What? Natori-san?”

“Natori Shuuichi!”

“Oh god, I loved you in _Forbidden Talents_! Will you sign my…?”

Natori tears his gaze away from Natsume’s retreating figure and smiles at the small crowd that’s gathering. “Hello, yes, thank you, I’m so honored…” He spends the next half hour signing a selection of random things found in the pockets of recent graduates.

He accidentally signs two as _Natsume_ before he catches himself.

* * *

 

The evening is rougher than it should be. No doubt it’s helped by Natori deciding to open a small sake bottle in quiet celebration of Natsume’s graduation.

He’d promised his shiki the night off, optimistically thinking he’d be out with Natsume tonight. Hiiragi had been reluctant to abandon him, but Urihime had rolled her eyes and said that she for one didn’t want to be around if Natori brought him home later. Hiiragi had left in an embarrassed flash.

It’s fine that he’s by himself in his sparse apartment. The bottle will fill at most four sake cups. Nothing that will hinder his schedule tomorrow.

Natori has downed two sake cups before he tells himself he’s supposed to be honoring someone else’s achievements. He slows down and lets his eyes wander around the open-floor-plan apartment. Minimalist and classy, the realtor had said. Unlived in and cold, to Natori’s mind, but he wasn’t certain if that was the apartment’s fault.

A daydream saunters into his mind, and Natori pictures Natsume sitting on the couch here with him. He might actually bother to turn on the gas fireplace. Madara would probably be with him, curled up around his own cup of sake in his deceptive cat form. Hiiragi would scold the powerful beast youkai about drinking too much. The whole apartment would be loud and colorful, and Natsume would be warm here next to him.

There’s something in him that says he has no right to picture such moments. Natsume has seen him as a mentor for so long, despite being pretty much his equal for the past two years at least.

But the sake has dulled his mental boundaries and warmed his gut. Natori leans his head back on the bleached leather couch and closes his eyes.

Natsume really had looked stunning in that suit. Straight, capable shoulders. Trim waist. Lean thighs. And his ass… Natori groans and puts a hand over his eyes. He tries to steer his thoughts elsewhere.

He’ll be a formidable professional. The exorcist board has no reason to deny him entry, though Natori knows they’ll put him through his paces for show. The youngest applicant since Matoba Seiji had best be prepared to take his place in the world of youkai-seers seriously.

Natori’s hand falls from his face and he stares up at the ceiling. Natsume will handle it all beautifully. With all the grace and compassion he’s shown since Natori first met him.

“Beautiful,” Natori muses. Long lashes, gentle brown eyes, delicate skin…even his hair is soft. Natori knows because they’ve been thrown together physically often enough in their many adventures with youkai.

Evidently there was damn good reason for not allowing himself to dwell on those moments, because Natori has lost all control of his mind tonight. His fingers flex on the couch cushion as he thinks about how that hair would feel in his hands. He’d like to sift it through his fingers like fine, white sand.

 _Yeah_ , Natsume had whispered when Natori had said he would join the youkais’ party tomorrow night. It’s a simple word that has no business being transferred into more intimate thoughts, but Natori stubbornly pushes aside questions of propriety.

 _Yeah_ , against a wall. Or over a kitchen counter. Or on this couch. Natori groans again and palms himself over his trousers. Or perhaps…someday…in the king-size bed down the hall.

He wants him. Damn everything, Natori wants all of him. Natsume shines with something that Natori wants in his life forever. To have him in his arms, gasping and responsive, soaking in all the pleasure Natori can give him…

Natori bites hard on the meat of his thumb as he pulls down his zipper. Living with youkai has taught him how to guard these moments. But he’s never thought of Natsume quite like this before, and his dick has plans that don’t include discretion.

How would Natsume like to be touched? Gently at first. Natori wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do anything else, if a moment like that ever was given to him. He’d hang on every sound, hungry to know what Natsume wanted. Perhaps he’d find out, from a gasp or nails on his back, that Natsume needed more.

 _More? Harder? Faster?_ he’d ask, and Natsume would pant his answer in his ear.

He’d watch Natsume fall apart underneath his hands. He’d hold him as he shook. Would kiss away his moans. Hold him and dare anything in the world to try to pull him away.

Natori stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, hand sticky.

He thinks of Sako’s grim jealousy and laughs. It sounds hollow in the empty apartment.

* * *

 

A bird-like youkai shows up on the set of Natori’s last interview for the day. It opens its beak and shrieks, “The little forest behind the Fujiwaras’ house! Eight o’clock! Natori-sama! The little forest behind…!”

Natori has some experience with inconvenient youkai timing and doesn’t falter as he answers one last politely invasive question about his love life. “It’s never been something I’ve given much thought,” he lies easily.

“There you have it, ladies.” His interviewer turns to the cameras. “You still have time, but it sounds like it might take some effort to turn the head of the focused Natori Shuuichi.”

 _You have absolutely no idea._ Natsume has made no effort at all, and Natori can barely see straight today.

“Thanks for your time today, Natori-san, I know it was a last-minute addition to your schedule.” The interviewer smiles sweetly. Her lipstick is a perfect dark red.

“Not at all. I’m ashamed to say it was rather convenient for me. I’m pleased it worked out.” He makes the required pleasantries, politely declines a veiled invitation for a drink, and scoops up the small youkai, still screeching, along with his coat.

He drops the bird-like creature onto the passenger seat of his car. He prefers driving, despite his agent’s complaint that a hired driver would be just as much as his own insurance and probably safer. “You’re a noisy one, aren’t you?” Natori says as he navigates traffic back to his apartment.

“Natori-sama!” the youkai begins again. “The little forest—!”

“Yes, behind the Fujiwaras’ house. At eight o’clock. You have delivered your message faithfully.” Natori glances at it. It’s the sort of pitiful thing that Natsume would have stumbled across and given a job because it begged to return a favor or some such. “Who sent you, little sir?”

The bird puffs its chest feathers importantly. “Natsume-sama,” it says proudly. “Well. Partly Natsume-sama. Indirectly.” It deflates a bit.

Natori feels like deflating right along with it. “Indirectly?” he asks.

“Hiiragi-san insisted that I go tell you at once.” The bird regains some self-confidence. “She said that Natsume-sama was going to talk himself out of it and she didn’t want you upset because of it. She said.” The bird seems to panic that it has strayed from the script. “Eight o’clock! In the little forest behind the Fujiwaras’ house! Natori-san! Eight—!”

Natori tunes it out. “Talk himself out of it?” he mumbles. Did Natsume not want him to come to the youkais’ party tonight after all? Damn. He really had overdone it yesterday. A sick feeling rises in his gut. Perhaps Natsume had wanted Sako’s attention after all. Natori has misread things before. Not often, but it has happened. 

“Why didn’t Hiigari come herself?” he asks, pushing darker thoughts out of his mind.

“Hiiragi-san is drunk,” the little bird announces.

Natori stares out into traffic to avoid crashing into a bridge barrier. “Drunk?” His most stoic shiki? Intoxicated?

“Youkai have been gathering all last day and all night and all morning,” the bird says. “Hiiragi-san and Madara-san have been doing all they can to manage the crowds. They have actually given up, I believe.”

Natori blinks. “Good heavens. What happened to the little sake party for the drunken cat?”

“Natsume-sama’s graduation—” the youkai enunciates the unfamiliar word carefully. “—is a serious event in a human’s life. There are many who wish to pay their respects.”

A serious event? Natori supposes it is, to a degree. It’s not quite like a wedding, of course. Youkai can get as worked up about those as humans. He’s never actually heard of youkai observing anything like a human graduation. “Who told you that?” he asks finally, pulling into his bay in the garage.

“Misuzu-san.”

The huge horse-like youkai? What does he know about human graduation? Well, what does it matter? Natori suspects it’s simply an excuse to get excited about something Natsume has accomplished.

“The party’s already started then? I’ll hurry.”

“The party was getting loud and Natsume went out to shush them, I was told.” The bird is an enthusiastic gossip. “They haven’t let him go home since, oh, hours ago.”

Natori stifles a laugh. He’ll change quickly and head over at once. This is what the guy gets for making everyone fall in love with him.

* * *

 

Natori has never seen a gathering quite like this. Certainly not for any peaceable reason.

The forest is crawling with youkai. Every shape and size, every range of power (though, thankfully, Misuzu is present and overpowers them all). Madara is in his cat form (Natori swears he prefers it), Hinoe is puffing smoke rings, and Natsume is seated in the midst of all of it.

He’s wearing a flower crown and laughing at something a small mushroom youkai is saying. Natori’s heart skips a beat.

The youkai close to Natori sense his presence immediately. He’s not as well liked as Natsume. He has perhaps in the past been too quick to exorcise when Natsume would have tried to talk things out. Solve a quest, even. No one has been as forgiving with local youkai as Natsume, and they are fiercely loyal.

Loyal, but most are disinclined to push for trouble. He feels wary eyes on him as he settles down next to Natsume.

Natsume has evidently had enough sake to be getting on with. It takes him a moment to register Natori’s arrival, and when he turns to him, his eyes are soft and unfocused.

“Natori-san!” He sounds adorably surprised and leans into his shoulder immediately. Long lashes are at half-mast. His smile is intoxicating. Who needs sake? “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“No thanks to you, so I hear,” Natori admonishes. God, he wants to lay him flat right here and taste the sake he’s had on his mouth. Misuzu could probably get everyone to go away.

Hardly. Every single youkai here would find a way to watch.

Natsume blushes and tries to sit up straight. He’s a little too drunk to manage. “I never know with you,” he says, and it’s not said with an ounce of flirtation. It breaks Natori’s heart.

“You never know?” he asks. “You think I’m unreliable like that?”

“I think you probably said you’d come just to get under Sako’s skin yesterday,” Natsume grumbles into his refilled sake cup. Natori had watched a youkai fill it. No one has offered Natori a drink. He will not be pushing the issue.

“It was easy skin to get under, I discovered.” Natori eyes him. “Should I apologize?” he asks quietly.

Natsume doesn’t answer. The tips of his ears turn red, though.

Natori slides in closer. “Sako said he would ask you about me,” he says. “Did he?”

“Why do you want to know?” Natsume shoots back, ever on guard. But he leans harder against Natori’s shoulder. Natori props himself up against the weight with a hand on the ground behind Natsume’s back. It’s as close as you can get to an embrace with room for plausible deniability. Natori is elated.

“I’m always curious what my fans have to say about me,” he says low.

“Ha!” Natsume sips his sake. “He’s no fan of yours.”

It’s a blunt statement for someone who’s usually the epitome of tact. “You don’t say.”

Natsume huffs into his drink. “He says you break hearts.”

Natori feels he’s on the edge of something, and he can’t quite see what. “And what did you say?” he whispers.

Natsume shrugs as if the answer doesn’t really matter. “I said I’ve known you for six years and never seen it.”

“It’s generous of you to ignore the persona my agent has tried so hard to cultivate.”

Natsume rolls his eyes. “I’ve never seen you _really_ break a heart. Movie screens and publicity rumors don’t count.” He looks up at Natori through shaggy hair, and his smile is kind.

If anyone’s heart is in immediate danger, Natori thinks it’s fair to say it’s not Natsume’s. “Well,” he says, and gazes out at the party around them, “friends are supposed to look out for what you can’t see. Sako sounds like a very good friend.”

Netsume holds his gaze for a moment. “You’re not drinking. Here.” He hands Natori his sake cup.

“I…” Natori’s caught off guard. “I don’t need to inconvenience the guest of honor.”

“It doesn’t look like they’re going to serve you.” Once again, Natsume is far more blunt than usual. He pushes the cup farther into Natori’s space.

To refuse at this point might even incite youkai ire. There are definitely a few who are watching. With a smile of surrender, Natori takes the cup from Natsume’s fingers. Of course they touch; the cup is ridiculously wide and shallow.

He means to keep his eyes on the drink. It’s golden sake, the likes of which he’s never had before in his life. Most probably, he’ll never be offered it again. But Natori’s eyes slip up to look at Natsume as he drinks from his cup.

Natsume is watching him. With the delicate flower crown, he looks positively ethereal tonight. His smile is small. “Natori Shuuichi is so refined he isn’t even tempted by youkai celebration sake?”

“It’s not the sake that’s tempting.”

The words are out Natori’s mouth before he knows they’re there. He can feel the truth of them shining in his own eyes.

Natsume’s mouth falls open a little. He blinks and obviously tries to recover. “Even out in the wilderness, the movie star is never far away.” His voice is light. Still, he’s not entirely unmoved, and an awful spark of hope flares in Natori’s chest.

They’re still quite close, so all Natori does is lower the sake cup. “If you think that was a movie star speaking just now,” he says quietly, “you’re more heartless than you seem.”

The facade of otherworldliness vanishes, and Natsume looks again like the surprised young man Natori had seen at a graduation ceremony this morning. “I…” is all he says before his jaw shuts again in confusion.

It’s the creed of every creative professional to not self-reject, but Natsume looks completely thrown for a loop. Natori finds himself scrambling for a way to patch up the moment.

“You’re impossible to ignore, Natsume,” he says, and Natsume’s eyes go wide. _Ah._ How can such a person be so impressed by the baldest admiration? Sako should have had him eating out of his hand weeks ago. “But I won’t make our working relationship uncomfortable for you. You can write this off as simply the ramblings one hears at a drinking party, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Natsume stares for an untoward length of time. Natori tries to keep his cool, but he’s used to coy glances and seductive demures, not blank stares that look seconds from panic.

Natsume stands suddenly. His flower crown slides to one side, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “You need a sake cup. I’m sure Shigeru-san has an extra we can borrow. Come on.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the Fujiwaras’ sprawling home just visible through the small forest.

Natori is the one who’s staring now. Natsume’s stride is determined. He cuts an adorably flustered figure in his jeans and hoodie.

“And you’re still sitting here because?” A blue-haired youkai with an elegant pipe plops herself down at his side. Hinoe puffs a smoke ring in Natori’s face. “Reiko-san’s grandson asked for your company. I didn’t take you for such a fool as to ignore as great an honor as that.”

Every last youkai is watching him, most with suspicious, narrow eyes. A few look ready to laugh at him, a few look as if they’d happily kill him here and now.

Natori gets slowly to his feet, trying to remember that he is nearly thirty and he is a respected exorcist. Some dignity is called for, even when surrounded by youkai. Even when the object of your fascination has invited you to leave a party early with him. Natori bows to the assembled guests, bids them a good evening with all the appropriate pleasantries, and tries not to walk too quickly after Natsume.

Natsume outpaces him all the way to the house. He leaves the door open, and Natori catches a glimpse of him disappearing into the kitchen. He slips off his shoes, utters a soft, “Excuse me,” and follows.

Natsume is standing in front of a cupboard, staring at it speculatively. It’s closed. Natori doesn’t say anything. He knows Natsume is well aware of his presence. Natori will be the perfect guest…until welcomed to be otherwise.

“Shigeru-san and Touko-san are out for the weekend,” Natsume says without facing him. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“If we borrow a sake cup?” Natori finishes. Again, he gambles, because Natsume lures him like that, and he walks up close behind him.

Natsume takes a deep breath and turns. “If we do anyth—” He cuts himself off when his eyes meet Natori’s. He swallows a little, looks away for half a moment, then looks him in the eye once again. He’s shaking.

Natori wills himself to relax—he hadn’t realized he was carrying so much tension in his own shoulders—and leans back. It puts a little distance between them without actually backing up, because oh, he doesn’t want to. “Anything, Natsume?” he asks. “What did you have in mind?”

“What did you mean, I’m impossible to ignore?” Natsume says in a rush. “I know what I think you meant, but you’re…and I’m…well.” He shoves his hands in his back pockets and his eyes cut away as he blushes. “You tease everyone all the time, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to tease when I said that.” Teasing would be easier than this bald honesty Natsume is asking for. And deserves, to be honest.

Natsume’s eyes are wary, as though the words are pretty, but he’s not dumb enough to take them at face value.

Natori’s going to prove their value. “Youkai haven’t been able to leave you alone since your childhood. You draw everyone to you. Humans. Ayokashi.” He smiles. “Even someone as powerful as Madara has to come up with flimsy excuses for why he remains at your side.”

“And you?” Natsume asks wryly. “You’re counting yourself among that crowd? _Irresistibly_ drawn to me?” He makes it sound like a joke.

“I wasn’t able to leave you alone when I first met you, you may recall. I sought you out, determined to find the boy with such an aura of powerful sight.”

“You said you just wanted to meet someone like you,” Natsume reminds him. “Actually, at first, you said you wanted an assistant.”

“I think we’re both glad you didn’t take the job. You would have drawn more youkai to my work than I would have known what to do with.” Natori laughs. “And you would have got in my way with nearly every one of them, determined to set them free. Your methods give me enough heart attacks as it is.”

“If they can be reasoned with, they should be set free,” Natsume retorts. “I would have thought after six years, you would have seen the benefit.”

Natori shrugs and grins. “Let the fact that I was able to attend a youkai celebration and leave with my head on my shoulders be proof of how I’ve changed.”

“Perhaps.” The corner of Natsume’s mouth tilts up, and he steps forward. “And now that you’ve left?”

Natori is careful about how he responds. “I meant what I said earlier. I won’t sacrifice the ease of our professional relationship just to satisfy my curiosity. You can absolutely pick out a sake cup for me, and we can return to the party. If that’s what you want.”

“Are you curious?” Natsume asks. It’s artless, completely devoid of seduction. An honest question, from a friend to a friend. However, one of them is quite possibly more hopeful than the other.

Natori jumps off the cliff. “Desperately curious,” he whispers.

Natsume absorbs this, simply looking at him for a moment that is too long by half. “What would you like to do about it?”

Natori closes his eyes and turns his face to the ceiling of the Fujiwaras’ neat little kitchen.

Natsume’s laugh is gentle. “I didn’t expect that to be _such_ a hard question.”

“Natsume…” Natori feels a little exasperated.

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Shock pings through his skin, and Natori lowers his head to find Natsume looking at him steadily. He looks every inch a young man who just graduated college. Like he could bring the whole world to his feet with a few clever words and a glance from those brown eyes.

The scary thing is he could probably do it. The world is fortunate that he doesn’t want to. Power like Natsume Takashi’s could be alarming in someone of lesser intellect and positively deadly in someone of fewer scruples.

“Is that permission?” Natori asks. He will not put a foot wrong, not if there’s any way to avoid it.

Natsume takes another half step closer. He has to tilt his head back to hold Natori’s gaze. “It might be good for both of us to put curiosity to rest. Probably.”

A thrill chases up Natori’s spine. There is no reason on earth not to move, not after a statement like that, but the butterflies bring flutters of anxiety. This isn’t some starlet or up-and-coming J-pop idol to flirt with for the cameras. Those kisses are effortless, and most of the time mean nothing to either party involved.

Apparently, Natori has put a fair amount of pressure on this moment without even imagining he’d ever get this far.

Something flickers in Natsume’s eyes, and it looks horribly like doubt. He looks to the side, and one foot steps back. The moment is sprouting wings, and it’s enough to make Natori finally, finally move.

He puts a hand on Natsume’s shoulder. Wide eyes look up at him, and it’s suddenly easy to rest another hand at his jaw. Natsume’s lips part on a surprised breath, and Natori lowers his head.

Natsume tastes like mythical sake. His skin is soft under Natori’s fingertips, and there’s a warm scent of him from his favorite hoodie. Natori feels every bone relax with the softness of Natsume’s mouth under his.

Natsume’s breath is shaky, but when he lifts his hands to grasp the lapels of Natori’s jacket, the kiss turns into something more. The gentle pull of Natsume’s hands, urging him closer, _closer_ , sends a flood of heat through Natori’s heart. Natori sweeps a thumb over Natsume’s jaw and curls his hand around the back of his head. Buries his fingers in sandy brown hair that’s silky and thick.

Natsume tilts his chin in the opposite direction, breaking the kiss long enough to try another angle. He takes Natori’s lower lip in between his, sucking softly, and it’s better than anything Natori’s imagination was able to conjure last night, alone in his living room. Sweet Natsume, sensitive Natsume, intelligent Natsume gasps quietly into his mouth and seeks out his tongue. A heady intoxication builds, and Natori’s certain he never wants to be sober again.

Natsume’s body feels so right like this, fitting perfectly in his arms, against his chest. With one hand still in Natsume’s hair, Natori slips the other off Natsume’s shoulder and wraps it around his back. Feeling the strong spine, the muscles tense with purpose. Fingers trail lower to a sweet waist, and Natori swears he feels him shiver.

“God…” Natsume’s voice is a whisper. “God, Natori.”

Every hair stands on end. Natori’s never dreamed of hearing his name like that, not from that voice.

Natsume’s arms slide up from where they’re crushed between them, and slip over Natori’s shoulders. A hand curls into Natori’s hair, the other pulls him closer. Natori feels a knee press between his thighs, slide underneath his cock.

He has to break off the kiss. He slides his cheek over Natsume’s to pull in a hard breath close to his ear. He feels Natsume shudder against him. The knee pulls away—it would be an awkward position to hold for long—but Natsume presses his hips into Natori’s thigh. His sigh is throaty and long.

Electricity rolls up Natori’s spine in a harsh wave. Natsume is unmistakably hard. He’s not rubbing against Natori’s thigh, not exactly, but Natsume’s embrace is tight from his shoulders to his hips. Natori presses his palm flat against the small of Natsume’s back, urging him to stay close. He doesn’t want him to get any idea that this isn’t what Natori wants most in the world.

He’s tempted to sweep his hand lower, to feel the alluring curve of Natsume’s ass in his worn jeans. But that’s quite a bit different from just—

Natsume turns his face into Natori’s neck and sucks at sensitive skin. When Natori feels tongue against freshly abused nerve endings, he moans, wanton and buried in the moment.

Natsume stills immediately.

The sound echoes in Natori’s mind, and a different heat floods his face. How could he just _lose_ himself like that? He’s older, he’s undoubtedly more experienced, he has to stay in control of himself…

Natsume is shaking in his arms. Small, slight, but he’s clearly…

“Are you laughing?” Natori asks, and damn everything to hell if he doesn’t sound completely wrecked. Some simple necking has him sounding like Natsume’s mouth had been on his cock instead.

An image that doesn’t help calm him down at all.

Natsume is definitely laughing, and he pulls away as though to say something—his eyes are shining and his smile is beautiful—when drunken song echoes from the front door.

It’s a verse Natori’s heard multiple times from thoroughly soused youkai. All about cherry blossoms and forbidden love and secret rendezvous. It’s horrifically appropriate for the scene in the little kitchen.

By the time Madara toddles in, Natsume and Natori are staring intently at a small selection of sake cups they’ve pulled hastily from the cupboard.

“Oho!” Madara crows. He leaps up onto the counter, his lucky-cat form fat and fluffy. For a moment, Natori is afraid they’ve been well and truly caught. If Madara chooses not to eat him right then and there, he’ll certainly never let Natori live down this moment. Even Natsume watches the cat with some quietly hidden trepidation.

“A few more guests have shown up,” Madara slurs, sniffing this cup, then that one. “I’ve come to borrow some extra cups.”

“You were just going to pilfer the Fujiwaras’ cabinets, sensei?” Natsume asks. Under normal circumstances, he would probably be more incensed. Now, he sounds tellingly relieved.

“Not at all!” The cat waved a paw. “Borrow, I said, borrow! Just a few of their ugliest cups. We’ll have them all back in place before anyone knows a thing.”

“Sensei…”

“Help me carry these out. You, too, exorcist, make yourself useful.” Madara hops down from the counter and waddles out. His singing is off key.

Natsume watches him leave, and Natori watches Natsume. Natsume doesn’t look at him until the front door closes.

Long lashes cut over to him, but Natsume turns to the counter and starts gathering sake cups. Disappointment settles in Natori’s chest. It’s no one’s fault; passionate moments have to end. Still, it was higher than Natori had ever dared imagine he would rise. He’s allowed to feel like he’s coming back down.

He steps to Natsume’s side and takes a few cups into his arms.

“I did say the Fujiwaras would be out all weekend,” Natsume says suddenly. “Bring udon when you come over tomorrow night.” He turns and heads to the front door, his arms full.

Natori stares after him, heart hammering in his chest. He follows, trying not to drop anything. “What kind of sake do you like?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, but while it reinvents itself, you can find me on my website: [marcellachristie.com](http://marcellachristie.com/). It'll lead you to my Twitter, etc.


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